


Heero's Inheritance

by Elle_Smith



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Gen, Headcanon, Illustrations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:41:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24658531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elle_Smith/pseuds/Elle_Smith
Summary: Just a short headcanon about Heero's past. Illustrated work.
Comments: 15
Kudos: 15





	Heero's Inheritance

**HC: Heero's Inheritance**

After the war, Heero searches the L1 databases for his past. He stumbles upon a security feed from an L1 hospital on February AC 180, where he sees a man he recognizes as Odin Lowe carrying a baby down a dark hallway. He stops to look at the newborn in his arms, and bestows a gentle kiss on the baby’s forehead. Suddenly, a woman comes running down the hall in a hospital gown: Aoi Clark - his mother. She snatches the baby back from Odin, shouting hysterically. Following a heated argument, Odin gives up with an angry wave of his hands, and leaves. Aoi watches him walk away, clutching her baby boy close to her as security guards rush to the scene.

Heero stares at the monitor in disbelief. Finally, after years of speculation, he has some confirmation that his suspicions about Odin were true. Now he knows what he had always known in his heart. The man was indeed his father.

While traveling around with his alleged son, Odin Lowe used to carry his sniping gear inside a violin case. _'It was an inheritance,'_ he had once told Heero while packing his gear into a hidden compartment built into the battered old case. _'This thing made it here all the way from the Eastern Front,'_ he had added solemnly and picked up an old violin, handling it gently as he placed it carefully over the stashed weapons. _'It survived world wars and death camps, passed down from father to son.'_ He had then turned to face him with a small forlorn smile. _'Think it can survive the next big one?'_ He had asked, somewhat jokingly, and Heero still remembers the dire distress he had felt for having nothing to say in return.

Then a small child, he had stared blankly at the man, unable to come up with a reply. He didn't know what _"Eastern Front"_ meant, and he wasn't quite sure what to make of a big word like _"inheritance"_. Odin only taught him how to kill. He was proficient at concealing weapons and sneaking them past security. He could do recon and eliminate a target from any distance. But Odin never bothered teaching him anything beyond the requirements of the mission, with the exception of counting and telling the time. He remembers the disappointment on J's face when the old man realized he had to start from scratch. He didn't even know how to read, and his limited vocabulary and poor communication skills hindered his ability to train as an MS pilot.

The first few months of his training were therefore dedicated to basic education. The Eastern Front, he had soon learned, was a theater of military operations during the First and Second World Wars. The battles on the Eastern Front constituted the largest military confrontation in pre-AC history, encompassing Central and Eastern Europe. It was a site of immense tragedy and loss of life, where millions of civilians were exterminated systematically, along with millions of soldiers who died in battle. Once educated on the matter, he regretted never keeping the violin. He should have made sure the ancient instrument survived the Eve Wars as well. He had left it behind on X-18999 after Odin died, when he should have kept it. He should have picked up on the message conveyed between the lines.

Heero can still recall the bereft violin music Odin had played late at night, when he thought he was asleep. He often wonders what it might have been like to have something to hold onto beside regret. It would have been nice to carry around a link to a past that could perhaps offer some validation to his empty existence. He should have kept the violin. He should have accepted his inheritance, instead of waiting for Odin to confirm what he had already known deep in his heart.

 _'Do as your heart tells you,'_ Odin had commanded just before his death. It was the only way to live without regret, he had claimed as a last piece of fatherly advice. But regret was the only reason Heero lives for after the war. He has nothing _but_ regret.

Once the war is finally over, Quatre takes it upon himself to reconstruct of L3 X-18999, salvaging whatever's left and rebuilding the rest. It comes as a complete surprise when one of his excavation teams reports back in with a curious finding, one they believe he should see for himself. They take him into the ruins of an old building, heading for the basement. They find the renements of what appears to be a hideout of some sort – two old cots, a broken table with two chairs and various everyday items scattered all about. And there, among the decay and broken belongings, is an old violin. The name **_"Lowensky"_ ** is engraved in black ink.

The name means very little to Quatre and his men, but it's what they find next to the ancient instrument that catches Quatre by surprise. It are two old passports. One of a man and the of a child, both dating back to the the 180s. The face in the child's photo is unmistakably Heero's.

A courier delivers the violin to Heero's Preventer office that same week. Heero is of course suspicious of the large long package, despite Quatre being listed as the sender. Inside, he finds a familiar and battered-looking case. His breath hitches in his throat. His heart hammers in his chest.

He opens the case with trembling fingers. It unfastens with a familiar _"click"_. Two old Colony passports lie on top of an old and violin. Heero stares, his blue eyes wide. It takes him a while before he reaches for the passports. When his eyes fall on Odin's passport photo, he slumps back into his chair, unable to stand. He holds the passport for minutes long, staring blurry-eyed at the violin resting in the case.

His eyes fall on the fading black ink writing. **_"Lowensky"_ **.

 _'This thing made it here all the way from the Eastern Front._ _It survived world wars and death camps, passed down from father to son. Think it can survive the next big one?'_

Heero's lips curl into a small, tragic, smile. He lifts the violin carefully out of the case, accepting his inheritance. He studies it closely, running his fingers gently over the timeworn wood. He tried to play, but the sound is hideous.

After he thanks him from the bottom of his heart, perhaps he should ask Quatre for violin lessons.

  
  



End file.
